


Electrify This

by BirdWhistle



Category: The Tick (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, I am an unapologetic pervert, One day stand hehe, Shameless Smut, Superheroes get it on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-02-28 08:17:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18752542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdWhistle/pseuds/BirdWhistle
Summary: Hot sex isn't only for the pure of heart.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I am nothing if not a huge pervert.  
> I really liked that ONE SINGLE SCENE Janet and Superian had together. Superian was all "no hard feelings", which was cool, and Janet gave him solid advice about his mental state (and later asked Arthur to talk to him). She's bad, but not like, irredeemable bad. Anyways, I like the idea of two hot people knocking boots.

She had never seen Superian so up close.

He was always an afterthought in her grand scheme of things. But as The Terror’s right hand, she’d been bound to pursue him and aid in his downfall. Which never happened, of course.

The man -if he is, indeed, a man- is an invincible force from outer space. And, she can’t believe she’s just noticing this _now_ , while wearing a stupid costume and assuming a stupid superhero persona that makes her skin itch, he’s very handsome.

Maybe it’s because he’s wearing civilian clothes. Maybe it’s because he’s just conventionally attractive. Maybe it’s because she’s always been a sucker for pretty boys (Overkill, hello?). But something stirs in her. Something that hasn’t stirred in eons. Well, not eons, but certainly years.

Oh, crap. 

Well, _fuck_.

It’s desire. Janet is fucking horny.

Superian registers a certain… shift in Janet’s energy. And there’s _a lot_ going on there.

She’s uncomfortable but, simultaneously, full of hubris. That weird suit she’s wearing seems to limit her movements, so she gives the impression of being confined in someone else’s clothes.

And yet, she takes on the vibe of a superhero. She wears it like a scarf, or a coat. Yes, more like a coat, something she can get swiftly get out of.

Janet is evil, there’s no denying that. She’s not a supervillain -yet-, but she’s not to be trifled with.

He could easily kill her, right here where they stand, before any of these AEGIS morons can even start running toward this room. But he’s never been a fan of death. Humans already live such short, pathetic lives. It would be a silly act of cruelty to intervene in their doomed fate.

And Janet is standing right in front of him, her face hidden by a mask he can easily see through, and, after one blink, her eye changes.

He can hear a whooshing sound -the blood rushing in her veins a tad more quickly than before. He sees her tilting her head, a calculated motion of the head to the left, and her face tightens slightly, as if trying to hide whatever emotion she’s feeling.

He can almost put his finger on it; he’s sure he’s sensed it before, in other times, in other places.

Janet is vibrating, her electrical impulses flowing faster through her, and he can almost see them, like a billion stars pulsing in synchrony, like a billion neurons on fire.

It hits him like a ton of bricks (he always liked that expression, so very silly, _ha ha_ ): Janet, all of Janet is hot matter: she’s a slender mass of sexual desire. 

_He noticed_ , Janet thinks. His abilities have always puzzled her: What is he?

He’s a human-like alien that’s just noticed the pang of desire that shot through her, that’s what he is.

She doubts he’s susceptible to feminine wiles, so, and it sucks to admit it, she’s lost her footing. She sighs and starts turning around. She’s not about to hit on Superian, for fuck’s sake.

Wearing this ridiculous suit is already embarrassing enough. She’s confident, yes, but she’s aware of her limitations. Femme Fatale has never been her strong suit.

It only worked all those years ago because Esteban was young and inexperienced. And, most importantly, human. Superian is none of those things.

She nods goodbye and starts walking away.

She feels a hand on her wrist. _What am I getting myself into?_ She wonders. She turns around and sees Superian’s arm outstretched, his hand grabbing her wrist.

Janet doesn’t like being touched, but his hand is soft and warm. She sees his long, pale fingers and starts getting ideas. _Stop it_. She has to look up, she must look at him. So she does. 

Mating rituals and procedures are not unfamiliar to Superian. His own species has them, of course, and they’re really not that different from the ones he’s observed on Earth.

Humans call it sex. Fucking. He has… indulged in these activities with human females, and it’s been surprisingly fun.

Women seem to find him handsome. Those who have dared to approach him with that specific end in mind have been rewarded with, as one of them once put it, “mind-blowing orgasms”.

His set of, _um_ , skills, are quite useful in love-making. And he likes the smell of a woman’s hair, the feel of her skin, the way her breathing patterns shift when she’s close to her release.

He doesn’t have what they insist on calling “a type”, though he prefers them long-haired.

Janet has long, brown hair that’s always up in a tight, braided ponytail. He supposes it’s because of the electricity within her; should she let her hair down, she’d look like that Einstein guy.

But he wants to see her with her hair down. Right now, he wants to take that mask off and press his mouth to hers. To kiss her, nice and deep.

Is desire contagious? He seems to be responding to hers, even though she’s trying her best to conceal it, to shake it off.

His hand slides down her wrist and, look at that, their skins are touching. He laces his fingers with hers and looks at her. “Look at me, Janet”. It’s no more than a whisper. She looks up, needlessly defiant. _There’s no need for that_ , he thinks. _I’m nice and pliant, can’t you see?_ “What do you want?”

“Why ask? I think you know what I want”, she says. She feels a faint smirk lingering on her mouth. She’s being purposefully standoffish; she wants to be able to run the fuck out of there if she so wishes.

It’s highly doubtful that her electrical powers can affect him in any way, so, if she actually goes through with this insanity, she’ll be rather helpless.

Because it is insane, is it not?

Superian is eyeing her intently, a half-question, half-invitation on his stupidly pretty face. Is this what he really looks like? Or did he choose this appearance because it would make it easier to fit in, to be accepted, to be revered? It matters very little at the moment.

His eyes land on her mouth and she can’t help but squirm a bit. She can’t pass up this opportunity. _I fucked Superian, ha! I fucked your beloved hero!_

She can’t not scratch this no-boytoy-in-sight itch with _the_ ultimate superhero. And, fuck, why does he look so willing? Janet makes a choice. “Lei-Lo Motel”, she murmurs. She sees him nod. He lets go of her hand. There’s an almost imperceptible whoosh of air, and he’s gone. Hopefully she won’t change her mind on the way to the motel.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexy times at Lei-Lo Motel.

Superian is able to identify Janet’s room based on scent.

Janet smells like expensive perfume, but she also smells like fire. Not the fire of a hearth, nor the fire of a building aflame. It’s just… fire. And he digs it. He also digs the perfume, and the soap, and the sweat: an amalgam of what it means to be human, and what it means to be a human with long, brown hair and a penchant for organized crime.

Janet’s inclinations should be a concern -they place them on opposite ends of the justice spectrum, but Superian has learned to… what do they call it? Compartmentalize. What a mouthful. Yes, he’s been fraying at the ends lately, his anger and dissatisfaction fueled by one, pathetic pundit and his equally pathetic viewers, a token of the fucking worst of mankind. It’s a new low for him, and he’s no stranger to gloomy depths. Maybe that’s why he picked up Janet’s, um, signals, so quickly, so eagerly.

Sex is a great way to distract one’s mind. He definitely needs to unwind. And Janet’s electrical impulses and the body that produces them are so alluring. Janet herself is fascinating: being his nemesis’ underling is the least interesting thing about her.

He likes the ring of authority in her sultry voice; he likes the way she moves -with certainty, with solid suredness, like a feline. He _really_ likes her brown hair.

His fingers twitch involuntarily; he wants to run them through her hair while he’s inside of her. And there it is: pure desire, undiluted lust. Oh, he likes this feeling. He feels it rushing down his sternum, reaching his lower abdomen, inching its way to his groin. He closes his eyes and tilts his head. She’s coming. Oh, she’s coming alright.

Janet lands -this flying thing is hella fun- right outside her room and takes off her mask. Superian is standing by the door, his back to her, his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t turn, doesn’t move. She walks toward the door, key in hand. She feels him behind her when she enters.

 _He’s in the room. I can still back out of this_. She eyes the bed, that hideous, uncomfortable bed. “I don’t mind uncomfortable beds”, he says.

Janet is startled not just by hearing him speak, but by his words. “Can you read minds?!” Her voice goes a bit higher than she intended. Superian just laughs. “No. But you were looking intently at it, so…”

They’re face to face now. He steps closer, and so does she. He may be Earth’s mightiest hero, but she’s not going to let him intimidate her. She’s not going to let him _lead_ her.

She takes another step forward and tangles her fingers in his curls. And she kisses him. His mouth is warm and it tastes like butter. _The croissant_.

He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her closer just as he opens his mouth to her, and his tongue is soft and sweet and jesus christ, Superian is a good kisser, what the fuck.

His tongue twirls in her mouth, brushes against her own, and Janet’s fingers tighten around his neck and she wants to press her breasts to his chest but she’s wearing this stupid metal suit and fuck, Superian’s nibbling on her lower lip and she growls in frustration and pulls apart.

“Want me to rip it off of you?”, he pants. She shakes her head. She spent good money on this thing, goddamnit. She rids him of his vest. Why is she nervous? Her hands are shaking slightly.

She starts undoing the buttons of his plaid shirt. Superian lets her; he’s standing very still, watching her. Janet knows he wants her to look at him in the eye, but she can’t, she might lose her resolve. That kiss threw her off a bit; she feels as if she’s lost a fraction of control, and with just one kiss, like a teenage girl. Maybe Superian is pulling some Jedi mind shit on her. Or maybe it’s because, even though they’re foes, there doesn’t seem to be any sort of power imbalance between them.

He’s not a submissive boy toy. Nor is he particularly interested in submitting _her_. They’re on equal footing, and how can she not panic?!

Superian takes her hands in his. “Janet. Tell me you want to do this. Or ask me to leave. Tell me what you want to do”. His voice is firm yet not commanding. She is in control, after all.

She turns around. “Unzip me”. Underneath all the metal there’s a bodysuit that she can shimmie out of rather easily. Superian kisses the nape of her neck and she can’t help but shudder. He slowly unzips the bodysuit, stopping when he reaches her lower back.

Janet slides her arms out of the sleeves and turns back to him. “Take off your boots”, she says. It sounds like an order -her voice automatically takes on an imperative twang when she speaks to men-, but it’s more of a request.

Superian reaches down and takes the boots and his socks off. Janet feels the weight of the metal and the leather around her waist. But as she watches Superian rise back up, wearing a pair of ordinary jeans and a white tee, his hair slightly tousled and his eyes bright with mischief, she feels… good. Like, really good. Light. And ready to fuck his brains out.

Janet is wearing a black sports bra. The sight of her skin makes him take a deep breath. He spots a scar on her chest, just above her left breast. He traces it with his thumb. He spots another one on her abdomen; he traces that one with his index. Janet’s breath hitches and he smiles.

He hooks his fingers in the bodysuit pooled around her hips and pulls downward. He’s on his knees in front of her, and when he looks up, Janet is looking down on him, her lips parted, her right eye big and dark.

She steps out of the suit, and he eyes her knickers, a simple pair of sports shorts. He kisses her mound through the fabric, nibbles a bit at it, and the smell of her added to the sound she makes -a delightful mix of a gasp and a moan- reroutes all of his blood to his cock. He stands up and kisses her roughly. He digs the tips of his fingers into her ponytail, and his thumb brushes the scar on her cheek. His left hand grabs her ass and presses her lower body into his. He wants her to feel how affected he is, how hard she’s making him.

Her tongue is hot and demanding in his mouth; he can feel these tiny crackles of electricity and it’s so fucking arousing. She grabs the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it up, and her hands are super quick -she’s already undoing his jeans and when the tips of her fingers graze his cock through the underwear he just hisses. Her breathing is fast and shallow and here comes his favorite part.

He sways her around so she can sit on the edge of the bed. But before that, he hooks his fingers in her underwear and looks at her right in the eye. He realizes he, like her, is basically panting. Janet nods. He slides the shorts down her legs -she’s got these long, toned legs that he cannot wait to have around his neck and kneels, yet again, in front of her.

“Sit down”, he says. Or asks. He’s not sure. Janet sits down, a suspicious look on her face. “Is oral sex something you enjoy?”, he asks her. Janet laughs.

“What kind of question is that, you idiot?” she says.

“Do you like it, Janet?”, he insists. He bites her inner thigh and licks the sting away. She closes her eyes and lets out a breathy _yes_.

“Me too!”, he says, far too loudly and far too cheerfully. But right before Janet can shush him, his mouth is on her.

The world’s superest of heroes is kneeling before her and licking her cunt. And, holy fuck, his tongue is amazing. He flattens it and licks along her slit, and then he sucks on the hood of her clit and she tangles her fingers in his hair and pushes his head into her, as if seeking more contact, and Superian drags that sweet tongue of his up her cunt and swirls it around her clit and and then down and dips the tip inside of her and then upward again and it’s absolutely maddening and please don’t stop _jesus christ_.

He pushes her thighs wider, grabs her right leg and swings it over his shoulder as his tongue circles her clit with a bit more pressure. His fingers dig into her hips and he sort of hums against her and the vibration pushes Janet closer to her orgasm, which is coming embarrassingly quickly.

“Fingers?”, he asks, and Janet looks down and nods. His eyes are so dark, his mouth is so wet, and he slides a lone finger into her and does that 'come here' motion and she can feel all of the electrons in her body flow toward her cunt and she wonders if Superian can feel it too because she is certainly pulsing under his touch, her blood and muscles amassing a mighty discharge of electricity, a bolt of lightning brewing under her skin, and Superian flicks his tongue against her clit one last time before she comes, a strangled moan leaving her throat and she holds onto his curls and she can feel the sparks coming out of her fingers and seething through her skin and god, her hips just move against his face but she can’t help it, she can’t help it and he doesn’t seem to mind one bit.

She sits there, catching her breath, relishing the feeling of a fucking ace orgasm.

She feels Superian sit next to her on the bed, his fingers grazing her leg gently. She turns to him and is a little taken aback: his hair is all messy -and frizzy, his cheeks are flushed, his mouth is all pink and wet. He looks… yummy. She wipes his mouth with her fingers. He plays with the strap of her bra.

“May I?”, he whispers. It’s weird, the fact that he’s always asking first. It’s… new. And she likes it. She nods. He hooks his fingers under the elastic and pulls it up. His hands are hot on her skin, his thumb caressing her nipple softly. He traces -again- the scar above her breast. He then kisses it. It’s such an intimate gesture that Janet frowns.

She grabs the waistband of his boxers and starts pulling them down.

Well then.

Superian is, for all intents and purposes, human. No aspect of his anatomy is alien; his body is slender yet toned, and his skin is fair and freckled. His cock is big but not too big -proportional. He’s hard, really hard, and she takes it in her hand and gives it slow, firm strokes. He sighs and squeezes her breast. 

“Get on top of me, Lint, and fuck me”, he murmurs. Janet smirks. She gives his cock a long lick and sucks the head briefly. Superian grunts and pulls her on top of him. 

He cannot remember the last time he had sex. He likes it, but he doesn’t really seek it out. Unlike humans, he has remarkable self-control. Janet sort of… tore it down.

He wonders if her being literally one heist away of becoming a supervillain played a part in him instigating this encounter. She’s so unabashedly bad, and it’s _so_ hot. 

He sees her straddle his hips; he sees her wrap her fingers around the base of his cock right before sliding down onto it. She’s so wet and so warm and fuck, he grabs her hips and holds her in place for a few seconds and then he rolls his own hips a bit, wordlessly asking her to move. And Janet moves.

And he wants to close his eyes but he also wants to look at her, cause this is the only scenario where he’ll get to see her with her guard down, with her cheeks all pink, with her breath coming out in tiny gasps. And she moans, and it’s low and nearly inaudible, a moan for herself, but he catches it, he catches all the little sounds that barely make it out of her throat, he catches the sound of her beating heart, and she’s touching herself and he watches for a few seconds, he watches so he can learn the motion and the pressure and the speed and he brushes her hand away and replaces it with his own, and a _fuck_ escapes her mouth, and then another, and she starts moving faster against him, her hips moving in small circles and he raises his hips lightly to meet hers and his cock feels fucking amazing inside of her, he licks the sweat off her collarbone and sinks his fingers into her ponytail and kisses her roughly, and he can hear the air in her lungs, he can _feel_ the air in her lungs and he sucks it out of her with a bruising kiss and Janet starts moaning her orgasm into his mouth and then buries her face in his shoulder and holds him deliciously close and she rides it out, her cunt tight around his cock and in that moment Superian lets go of all his control and gives into the feeling of a beautiful woman coming on top of him and just comes with a strangled growl.

Janet’s breath is like steam on his skin and he realizes his arms are tight around her ribcage. And the hairs on his arms are standing up and he can’t help but smile.

Janet’s _orgasm-electrical-discharges_ aren’t powerful enough to shock him, but he does wonder what they do to a normal dude. And he’s pretty sure she could cause some serious harm to him if she wanted to. Best not to get on her bad side. She disentangles her body from his and rolls to lie on the bed on her stomach. He also lies down. 

Now what?, she thinks. Kick him out is the only logical response. She wants him to leave, but she wants him to come back if she asks him to.

The sex was pretty great, and that’s not easy to find. She moves up the bed so she can rest her head on the pillow. She’s starting to drift off, but she still has to deal with Super Fuck. But she doesn’t want to move.

The air in the room moves faster for a few seconds, and she lifts her head to find Superian gone.

Well, he knows when to split, that’s for sure. She’s just about to fall asleep when she hears a faint buzz. It’s her phone, which is in on the floor, in the suit. She sighs and gets up.

It’s a text.

"Yes, I got your number. Don’t ask how. Do ask whenever you want to do this again and I’ll be there. S."

Her cackle of, one might say, satisfaction, is heard outside her door.


End file.
